A Sea Enchantment
by Black Licorice Addict
Summary: AU. Wally West cannot wait to start his research project analyzing marine life down in a remote fishing town all summer. But he may get more than he bargained for when he accidentally comes across a mermaid. Spitfire


**A/N: Just to specify, this story is in an alternate universe, and not the regular YJ canon. No superheroes. No superpowers. This monstrosity is what spawned after I watched too many Pirates of the Caribbean movies.**

**Disclaimer: Weisman would be ripping out his remaining hair if he read this.**

* * *

**Beautiful Girl**

"_Where did you find her?_

_Among the neon lights_

_That haunt the streets outside._

_She said, 'Stay with me.'_

_Beautiful girl._

_Stay with me."_

His first research job at the university required him to travel down to the gulf coast that summer to a small fishing town. Fresh from his first year of undergrad, the budding scientist eagerly seized the opportunity, packing a large duffle along with his lab analysis equipment for measuring toxin levels in marine life.

The young man arrived one sweltering day in May, the humidity causing his fiery hair to stick to his brow as he trudged to the small oceanside structure. "Cottage" would have been an exaggeration—more like abandoned shack. But hey, his department had gone through budget cuts! He was grateful they had at least sprung for some sort of lodging.

The landlord, who also happened to be the podunk town's mayor, gave Wally a tour of the small establishment, showing him how to work the gas stove and the wood-burning fireplace (though Wally was positive he wouldn't be using the latter in the overbearing humidity).

When Wally inquired what happened to the previous owner, the mayor grew quiet, looking at the young man with a solemnity usually reserved for funerals.

Thirty years ago, there lived a young fisherman, newly released from his tour of duty with the military. The man decided a small town life was better suited to him, so he started a fishing business that had been moderately successful.

About five years after his arrival, the man began to act odd, almost moonstruck. Then, one day, he simply wasn't there, having been shanghaied by a sea witch, never to be heard from again.

Wally scoffed, informing the mayor that he didn't believe in superstitions or enchantments or anything remotely resembling magic.

The mayor's visage changed, and he sternly stared down the young, naïve person in front of him. "You will soon enough. See that you look after yourself," he warned ominously.

Before departing, the mayor left Wally a bicycle for his travel needs and an invitation to dinner at a grill house three miles up the coast from the shack. It was tradition for the small town to hold a welcoming dinner in honor of new guests, and Wally would be expected at six sharp that night.

The older man left, and Wally began unpacking his personal effects and equipment, smacking at the buzzing swarming the back of his neck, grateful that he had the foresight to pack a mosquito net.

* * *

Six came and found Wally outside a brightly lit building, dozens of gaudy neon-signs lighting up the outside of the structure as well as the surrounding area. Taking a deep breath, the red head yanked open the wood door, loud bluegrass music and animated chattering washing over him.

Over the next several hours, Wally was certain he had met everyone in the town twice and had danced with every female in the room, especially the cute bartender, Megan, who was polite enough not to decline him a second time.

Finally unable to take the humidity compounded with the body heat of the multitude indoors, Wally excused himself to the vacant porch outside, finding even the warm breeze to be a pleasant relief. He leaned against the wooden railing, watching fireflies glowing in the bushes and listening to the crickets and frogs play their duet to the lapping waves.

A sudden, sharp screech followed by glass shattering pierced the natural harmony. Wally's gaze darted around, frantically searching the surrounding deserted beach, finally stopping on a struggling figure forty yards away.

Without pausing to think, Wally vaulted the railing and raced down the shore, kicking up sand with every stride until he finally came upon the distressed person. His eyes widened in surprise at the sight in front of him, and he had to blink several times and give himself a sharp pinch on the arm to ensure he wasn't hallucinating.

There was a girl about his own age trapped in a fishing net along with several glass bottles, a plastic can holder, and two plastic grocery bags. Nothing was out of the ordinary, save her unusual kelp-woven top that tied around her neck and above her midriff, the assortment of teeth and shells strung about her neck like jewelry, and the forest green fish tail replacing her legs. She was a mermaid.

Wally tried not to think too much about that, turning instead to focus at the task at hand. From what he could see in the dim glow cast by the neon lights, she had become entangled in the netting and the plastics, smashing a few of the glass bottles in attempt to break free before washing up to shallow waters.

He pulled out his utility knife to cut the ropes and attempted to get her attention. "Miss! Excuse me, miss?"

Her gray eyes finally turned to him, a stark contrast to the long golden hair falling about her shoulders. For a moment, Wally was completely mesmerized. But the mermaid saw the knife and broke the stillness with her shrieking and struggling once more.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" He set the sharp object down, cautiously approaching her. "I'm not going to hurt you."

She paused a moment before spouting off phrases that sounded oddly oriental—Wally couldn't discern what she was saying though.

"I only speak English," he told her apologetically.

She looked at him quizzically, her brow furrowing in concentration before something like understanding flitted across her eyes. "English?" she repeated.

"Right, I speak English," Wally reaffirmed, reaching for his knife which was sinking into the wet sand.

The mermaid eyed the tool apprehensively, scooting away from the red head until he set it down again.

"Look," he told her, "I need it to cut you free from this," he gestured to the rope and made sawing motions with his hand. "Okay?"

She looked at him through her prison, eyes no longer hostile. She nodded once, replying in the same language as before. Wally took that as encouragement to continue.

Her gray gaze followed his hand's movements as they sliced through the rope. Within minutes, he had cut an opening big enough for her to crawl through. And she did, slowly moving through the hole as he held it open for her. She watched as he pulled the net up out of the water, coming back to cut her wrist and tail free of the plastic garbage.

Wally had just completed his removal of the shopping bag from her tail, feeling its smooth, slimy texture, when he spotted several gashes along the fins, her arms, and her exposed back.

He was about to tell her to wait while he grabbed a first aid kit, but he was caught off guard when she fisted the front of his shirt and kissed him full on the mouth.

The mermaid pulled away just as abruptly as she had pulled forward. "What is it you are called by, human?" she demanded, sinking further into the water.

Wally sat there, dumbstruck—though from the kiss or the revelation that the mermaid was now speaking his language he couldn't tell. "Uh, Wally," he replied. Coming out of his momentary lapse of coherent thought, he blurted out, "How do you know how to speak English?"

"I learn other languages from oral transmission," she explained in that same deep, velvety voice that spoke of waves crashing and lulling sailors to sleep. "I need only place my mouth to another's to learn their native speech."

"Oh," came Wally's intelligent response.

The mermaid continued to speak before silence could settle. "I am indebted to you Wally, son of earth, and must repay that debt by granting you a boon. Ask of me something, and if it is within my power I will give it to you. Choose wisely."

Wally's mind was swimming with the situation presented before him. He was certain that this was all just a dream, even though the pain from pinching his arm a second time felt real enough. He could ask for wealth (she was sure to know of several treasure chests at the bottom of the ocean) or fame (she could bring him a new species of sea life to identify).

But he took in her battered, bleeding appearance, still entrancing among the glow of the neon lights nearby, and knew what he need to ask her.

"I need you to meet me at a dock about three miles south of here. The one by the old fisherman shack. I want you to wait there for me to bring some medical supplies to treat your wounds," he told her.

Her steely eyes bore into his green ones in the dark, holding his gaze with a power all her own. At length, she spoke.

"This is your request, human?" She snorted derisively. "How do I know it isn't a trap for you to capture me and hold me prisoner?"

Wally sat a moment, thinking of something, anything to assure her of his sincerity, when he spotted the knife. Folding its sharp edge away, he held out the metal object to her.

"Here. You can defend yourself against me should I try anything untoward."

Her eyes continued to search his, two polygraph machines conducting the ultimate lie exam. Finding nothing but sincerity in his verdant depths, the mermaid took the object from his hand.

"Very well. I will wait as you ask, but only until the sun breaks over the water." With a swish of her injured tail, the mermaid dove into the next wave out of Wally's sight.

The red head wasted no time, running back to the bar house, ignoring the drunken jeers teasing him about falling into the water, and making a beeline for the bartender.

"Hey! Megan! Do you have a spare first aid kit I can borrow?" he asked hurriedly.

The girl's eyes widened. "Yeah, there's one down here—" She reached into a cabinet under the counter and pulled out a white metal box with a large red crossed splashed across its cover. "Is everything okay?" she inquired, concern lacing her voice.

"Peachy," Wally answered, hoping he sounded convincing. "I just have something I need to take care of. Please tell the mayor I sad thank you for the party." He tucked the kit under his arm, bolted though the door, and pedaled his bicycle as fast as his long legs could go back to the shack.

He ditched the bike next to the rundown cottage, never pausing to catch his breath as he burst toward the dock at full speed.

The stretch of wooden slats bobbed up and down in rhythm to the water level, but no one was in sight.

Wally set the kit down on the dock, bending over, placing both hands on his knees as he gasped for air. Perhaps he truly _had_ imagined the entire ordeal.

But a slight stirring in the water and the soft "plunk" at the end of the wooden stretch indicated otherwise. The mermaid sat there, tail sloshing in the ocean as she perched upon the edge.

"You came," he whispered, picking up the white tin and making his way toward her.

"You asked it of me," she responded, watching the red head's approach with guarded interest.

He sat down next to her, opening the container, pulling out the tweezers, salve, disinfectant, and cloth bandages.

"May I see your arms," he asked politely, not entirely sure what the proper protocol to converse with a mythological being was.

She held both arms out to him, watching as he soaked several cotton balls full of alcohol. "This may sting a little," he informed her, raising one of the balls to a nasty gash down her left forearm, "but I promise I mean you no harm."

The mermaid nodded once, and he took that as permission to continue. She only winced slightly as the disinfectant trickled into the wound, but Wally was too focused on his mission to notice. Gently, he cleaned the mermaid's wounds, occasionally reaching for the tweezers to remove a remnant shard of glass. Salve was applied, and her arms and hands were bandaged in no time.

It was more difficult to convince the blonde to let him tend to the cut on her mid-back just above the bottom tie to her kelp top, but she eventually relented when he pointed out he was unarmed and she was at the best vantage point to dive into the water and make a quick getaway.

The tricky part came when it was time to fix the cuts on her tail. Wally didn't know if the alcohol disinfectant would be harmful, but he wanted to ensure nothing was infected.

"Wait here a minute, I have to go get something from the house," he instructed before darting to the shack.

He returned several minutes later, arms laden with research equipment and a bag of chocolate chip cookies. But the mermaid, having seen the metal objects and not known their purpose, jumped back into the water and was a good ten feet away from the dock when he spotted her.

"Hey! Where are you going?" he questioned, setting his load down on the rickety raft.

"What are those for?" she demanded, nodding toward the machines.

Wally kneeled next to the largest one, pulling out a metal sampling probe. "This is a machine my lab uses for research. It takes skin samples from fish and scans them for toxicities," he explained. "I just want to check and make sure none of the gashes on your tail have harmful bacteria."

"Toxicities?" she asked, swimming closer to the ledge.

"Poisonous things," Wally amended, waiting for her response. She did not disappoint.

"I am NOT a fish," she spat out venomously, pulling herself back onto the wooden slats, fanning her tail to allow him better access.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to insult you," he apologized absentmindedly, scraping the cuts on her fins with the metal wand. "But I did bring you some cookies."

"Cookies?" She took the proffered bag from his hand curiously, peering inside. "What do I do with these?"

"You eat them." He demonstrated by popping one in his own mouth for emphasis.

She cautiously bit into a cookie, surprise washing over her features. "This is delicious," she informed him, reaching for another.

"Of course it is. It has chocolate," he riposted, sticking the metal probe back into the mechanical reader.

The mermaid continued to munch on the desserts as she watched the machine, jumping slightly as it began to beep. "What does that mean?" she inquired as he read the results.

"You have slightly elevated levels of mercury," he shrugged. "Otherwise everything is healthy." He moved on to the next laceration, only mildly irritated that she kept splashing water over herself.

"Why do you do that?" he finally asked, waiting for the last results.

"I cannot allow my body to dry out," she retorted, dousing herself with another healthy measure of ocean water.

The last results came up negative for infection, so Wally applied salve to the injuries as the mermaid finished off the last of the cookies.

"All done," he told her, putting everything back into the first aid kit.

"Me as well," she replied, handing the red head the empty bag of cookies.

"Would you like some more?" he inquired, crumbling the bag in his fist.

"I do not wish to impose," she answered, turning her back to him and plunging her tail into the water once more. Wally resisted the urge to yell that the salve was just going to wash off.

"It's no trouble," he assured her, stowing the kit under one arm as he picked up the lab equipment. At this point, he was willing to do anything to prolong the vivid dream he had somehow slipped into.

"I would like that," she admitted, looking at him over her shoulder, blonde hair cascading down her back in wild waves and curls.

"I'll be right back then." And as quickly as he could without dropping the technology in his arms, Wally dashed to the house and back with a brand new bag of oreos.

He half expected her to vanish with the warm breeze, but she remained poised at the ledge just as he left her. The soft light from the crescent moon bathed her in a glow that had the red head questioning her existence and his own sanity once more.

He discarded his shoes at the shore, his bare feet padding silently across the rotting planks until he reached the edge and sat down next to her, offering the blonde the freshly-opened bag.

She quietly accepted a cookie, and the duo sat in silence, feet and fins sloshing in the balmy gulf water.

The mermaid leaned into him, reaching for another oreo. "You're very quiet, human," she remarked offhandedly. "Something troubles your mind?"

He watched her bite into the cookie, crumbs falling onto the shimmering jade scales. "I just…keep expecting to wake up from all this," he waved his hands wildly, gesturing to the general surrounding environment.

Her face flashed with understanding. "You don't believe in our existence," she nodded sagely, tendrils of blonde hair fluttering in the gentle breeze.

"I'm a scientist," he retorted. "I don't believe in mythical creatures or magic or things I can't physically prove exist." He bit into another cookie.

Her gray eyes darkened. "Just because _you_ have never seen something doesn't mean it simply cannot exist."

"I wish you really existed!" he blurted out, slapping a hand over his mouth after the outburst, but it was too late.

"Excuse me?" Her face contorted into confusion.

Wally took a deep breath. "I said I wished you really existed. I wish that I had some way of proving this all actually happened when I wake up tomorrow! Because I know I'll just convince myself it was a dream and I'll go on with life like it never occurred."

He sighed in frustration, leaning back on his arms as they extended out behind him, kicking up water with his feet.

The mermaid watched him, followed his movements with her eyes until he finally gathered his resolve and made to stand up.

She caught his wrist before he left, tugging him toward her. "Stay with me," she told him, delighting in the genuine surprise splashed across his face.

"What?" he breathed, not daring to believe his ears.

"Stay with me," the mermaid repeated, pulling him down next to her. "Until sunrise."

Wordlessly, he scooted up to her, her cool presence a welcome relief in the sweltering night air.

She leaned her head atop his shoulder. "Human, why did you use your one wish to help me?" She looked up at the red head, genuinely curious at his actions.

"Honestly, I almost didn't," he admitted. "But I realized you needed my help more than I needed fame or wealth. I couldn't in good conscience accept something from you and let you go off half-dead. It wouldn't have been right."

"I wasn't half-dead," she scoffed, glancing at her tail fin, the salve almost completely washed off. "But I thank you, human."

"You can call me Wally," he told her, glancing down to meet her gaze.

"Thank you, Wally." The briefest of smiles tugged at her lips He longed to make it reappear.

"Do you have a name?" he finally asked.

"I am called Artemis, daughter of the sea, warrior of the shadow clan," she informed him, reaching for one last oreo.

"Artemis, daughter of the what-clan?"

"Daughter of the sea, warrior of the shadow clan," she corrected him. "But you may call me Artemis."

"Artemis." The name rolled off his tongue like vapor on a mirror, reverberating throughout his very being. "It's a beautiful name."

The smile was back, crinkling the corners of her eyes as they surveyed the calm water, an occasional firefly buzzing before the pair.

Artemis leaned further into him, and Wally took that as encouragement to wrap his arm around her slender frame, silky strands of gold tickling his arms. She smelled like the sea: salt water mingling with a heavy summer flower scent and some unknown factor he couldn't quite place.

Wally didn't know how many hours he sat in a trance under her spell, but she began to fidget when the first slivers of dawn began dancing on the waves.

"I must be going home now," she murmured to the half-asleep boy, his eyes leaden with exhaustion.

He yawned, trying to comprehend what was transpiring. "You're leaving? He asked drowsiness lacing his words. "Will I ever see you again?" he inquired, watching bleary-eyed as the mermaid slipped soundlessly back into the water.

"Do you wish to see me again?" she asked, her tone playful.

"Yes. But I wish that you'd want to see me again too," came his honest reply as he lay down at the edge of the wooden walkway, his face level with hers, just barely peeking out over the water.

Her mouth broke into a cunning smile, and she came up out of the water far enough to meet him in kiss.

It was slower, gently than the first, and Artemis reveled in his confused, dopy expression when she broke apart.

"But I thought—"

She put her finger to his lips. "The first kiss was for me, the second for you." She removed her finger from his mouth, cupping his cheek instead. "Sleep well, Wally, son of earth," she whispered sinking underwater and out of sight.

* * *

The sun was well along its path across the sky when Wally's eyes cracked open, shutting almost immediately afterwards, blotting out the sudden bright light.

Groaning as he sat up, the young man shielded his eyes, rolling the kinks out of his neck and shoulders, wondering how in the world he ended up spending the night on the old dock. Had he been sleepwalking?

He ran his hands though his disheveled hair, clutching his skull, trying to muddle through last night's memories in the scorching noon heat.

There had been that party, and he had briefly stepped outside to get some air when—

He froze as everything came rushing back, a tidal wave of memories flooding his brain. The distress call, the fishing net, the first aid kit, and the mermaid. She had asked him to stay with her, and they spent the night stargazing and listening to the waves crash until dawn.

Wally mentally slapped himself. Mermaids didn't exist.

But the moment that thought flashed though his mind, he caught sight of something reflecting the sunlight. It was his knife, precariously situated at the corner of the dock.

He may have been surprised that it hadn't fallen into the water if his focus hadn't been drawn to what else lay there. The red head picked up the metal object, warm in his hands from laying out in the sunshine. There, tucked in between the blade and its holder, were three long golden strands of hair, glinting in the sunlight.

His heart dropped into his stomach, adding its reckless thumping to the swarm of lingering fireflies. Words that he only believed he dreamed up came surfacing back.

"_Just because _you_ have never seen something doesn't mean it simply cannot exist."_

Wally smiled, running the silken threads through his fingers, a parting gift to assure him he wasn't crazy.

He stood up, carefully removing the hairs from the tool before throwing it as far as he could back into the ocean, listening to it sink with a satisfying plop.

It had been a gift after all.

* * *

**A/N: Yes, I stole the language idea from Starfire kissing Robin. Not sure what to do with this now. It could potentially be a three parter... Whatever happens, I hope you enjoyed it :)**


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